The Bet
by Samwysesr
Summary: Relationship advice in Cosmo should never be taken seriously—too bad Lissa doesn't seem to think so. When Rose's best friend decides they need to test their boyfriends, all she can do is hope for the best—and pray it doesn't come back to bite her in the ass. A four shot featuring Romitri and Chrissa, relayed by Rose and Dimitri. Rated 'M' for Mature Language and innuendo.
1. Chapter 1: Rose

"This is interesting—did you know the best way to determine how in tune you are with your partner is by the presents they give you?"

"Huh?" I glanced up from the magazine I was flipping through, shooting Lissa a confused look.

"What they buy you indicates whether they care more about you or themselves." Lissa held up the magazine she was reading. "Like Chris giving me that stupid toaster—it was something he gets more enjoyment out of than me."

"Liss… please tell me you're not _seriously_ getting relationship advice from _'Cosmo'. _ I rolled my eyes. "He got you the toaster because you like toast and I… uh… I mean… _someone _broke the old one."

"It makes sense," she insisted. "I dropped hints for at least a week about wanting that dress at Margo's—"

"Maybe he wanted to surprise you—get you something you didn't expect," I pointed out—relieved that she missed my slip about the accidental destruction of their kitchen appliance. It honestly could have happened to anyone—how the hell was I supposed to know you couldn't heat a damn frozen burrito in a toaster?

"Or he just didn't care about what _I _ wanted." She frowned. "I think we should test him. Dimitri too."

"Ohhhhhhhh no. No way. You're not dragging us into this shit." I dropped the magazine, on the verge of bolting.

"Please Rose?" She grabbed my arm—effectively halting my quick getaway. "If you'll do it I can tell Christian it's a bet we made—to see who's boyfriend gets the perfect gift. There's no way he'll refuse if it means he has a chance of making you lose."

"Absolutely not Lissa—the whole idea is stupid." She widened her eyes, giving me a pleading look—the one that makes her look like a sad, orphaned puppy.

Shit.

"You suck—you know that, right?" I scowled at her, slumping back against the cushions.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

"Yeah—so what do we do? Just tell 'em to go buy us a surprise and see who comes back with the best gift?"

"That's too easy. We have to be more specific." Her face scrunched up as she thought about it for a minute, then she got the most devious looking grin I've ever seen her wear. "I know—night clothes."

This idea was getting worse by the minute. "What do you mean… _'night clothes'?"_

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. We'll see if they buy something comfortable that we'd enjoy wearing—like cozy flannel pajamas—or if they turn up with some stupid lace see thru nighties that _they'd_ enjoy seeing us in."

"Hey! I happen to _like _ lacy nighties!" I said, my voice indignant.

"Oh Rose—no you don't! They're uncomfortable and itchy."

"Not on me they aren't—they don't stay on long enough to bug me." I smiled smugly as she blushed.

"Rose! Honestly!"

"Well they don't! And _I_ don't like pajamas—they make me feel confined. It's like wearing a damned uniform to bed."

She ignored my protests, scooping up her phone from the coffee table to call Christian. I examined my nails intently, trying to tune her out since I didn't really want to hear the lovey dovey way she greeted him—I preferred to keep my lunch _ in_ my stomach as opposed to all over the floor. It took me a couple of minutes to realize she'd fallen silent; glancing over at her, I almost laughed at the put out expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

She held up her hand to silence me; I scowled—I hate waiting.

"Fine—then it's girls against boys. I hope you realize you're going to lose." Her eyes narrowed as she ended the call, tossing the phone down beside her.

I didn't like the sound of _that_ one damn bit.

"He said they only way they'll do it is if we do it too," she huffed indignantly.

I groaned. "That means—"

"We're going shopping. Come on."

THREE HOURS LATER, we were still shopping. Lissa drug me kicking and screaming—okay, not quite… more like groaning and complaining—through _ six_ stores before she found something she liked. Personally, I didn't want to even _ think_ about what Christian wore to bed, but she kept asking my opinion—pointedly ignoring the expression of disgust on my face.

"These are nice, don't you think?"

I pretended to gag.

"Rose! Stop that! Come on, I need your input. I want to win, don't you?"

She knows me too well, which means she knows exactly which buttons to push to get me to cooperate—I have a competitive streak a mile wide. "I don't know Liss. They're kinda… old fashioned." The pajamas in her hands were a pale shade of blue, trimmed with a darker blue—in other words, they looked like something a grandfather would wear.

She frowned. "But they match his eyes—and I can get the pocket monogrammed in navy to match the piping."

"I thought the entire point of this whole stupid idea was to get something _he_ would like—sorry but I can't see Christian getting all worked up about grandpa pjs Lissa. An apron maybe, but not these—he's not Hugh Heffner you know." I eyed them critically, shaking my head. "Why don't you just get what he normally sleeps in?"

She scowled. "Because t-shirts and boxers are boring, Rose."

"To you," I pointed out, jerking the pajamas out of her hands and dropping them back on the display table. "Come on—maybe you can find some of those boxers with smiley faces on 'em or something."

She huffed at me as I steered her away from the silk pajamas, but immediately her sour expression faded when she saw the giant selection of novelty boxers and t-shirts that they had on the racks. After thirty minutes of sorting through the displays, she finally settled on a pair of plain black boxers and a shirt that had 'sarcasm is my middle name' scrawled across the chest. As soon as she picked it up and smiled, I towed her to the register—not wanting to risk her to change her mind again.

"But… what about you? You didn't get anything!"

"You let me worry about that." I watched as the sales girl rang up the purchases. "She needs gift boxes—two of them, thanks."

Lissa glanced over at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Rose… what are you up to?"

"Trust me—I've got it covered Liss. We're gonna win hands down."


	2. Chapter 2: Dimitri

I honestly do not know how it is that I allow myself to be roped into situations like this—if I knew, I would certainly make whatever changes necessary to insure it didn't happen again.

I was showing Christian some basic defensive moves—the kind that can easily shift into offensive maneuvers—when his phone rang. The ring tone was the one that was reserved for Lissa, so I knew he might be awhile; I sank down on the mat, allowing myself a small break while my charge conversed with his girlfriend.

The next thing I knew, he was waving me up, demanding we go to the mall—the nearest one being a good thirty minute drive away. He spent the entire trip mumbling about some ridiculous bet he'd agreed to—one that I'd been involved in, whether I wanted to participate or not. Had I known what the bet entailed, I would have turned the car around and driven straight back to court—which is probably why he refrained from giving me any details until we'd entered the mall. It wasn't until we reached the small specialty shop that he told me what we were after; at the news we would be shopping for nightclothes, I was very tempted to toss him over my shoulder and run for the car.

My thoughts must have reflected on my face—he pulled open the door and hurried inside before I could move a muscle.

"I don't see why _I_ have to participate in this," I grumbled, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment as the sales lady looked our way. When it comes to buying intimate gifts for Rose, I prefer to do my shopping online—_in private._ "Surely you could have simply told Lissa that—"

"Blame your girlfriend—it's probably all her idea anyway." He shrugged, seemingly not bothered at all to be in a shop surrounded by lingerie.

I, on the other hand, was _mortified. _

"I don't see the point in this," I lowered my voice as the woman who'd been watching us began heading our way. "Why didn't you just say no?"

"Because it's a _bet_, Dimitri. " He shot me a look that conveyed quite clearly how ignorant he found my question. "If I hadn't accepted, Rose would have _never_ let me live it down."

"But—"

"Good afternoon, gentlemen—can I help you find something?"

I reddened even more, muttering a Russian curse under my breath. The woman bore a striking resemblance to my mother. Good God—could this get any worse?

"I need to get a present for my girlfriend," Christian offered, glancing around. "Where are your pajamas? She likes the fuzzy kind."

"Fuzzy… pajamas?" The woman looked aghast. "Oh no, dear—you don't want those… not for your girlfriend!"

"I don't? But… she _likes_ fuzzy pajamas—"

"Not from her boyfriend she doesn't! Why… if you give her something like that… she'll have a fit! A girl wants her sweetheart to buy her something that makes her feel beautiful and desirable, not… _frumpy_."

"But—"

"I _guarantee_ that if you buy her pajamas… you'll end up in the doghouse—and we don't want that now… do we? What you want to get her is a nice negligee… perhaps one with a matching peignoir and some adorable kitten heeled slippers."

"With… _what?_" Christian looked a little dazed; for a moment—just a moment—I considered making a break for it.

The saleslady laughed. "Don't worry—I know _just_ the thing to sweep her off her feet. She'll absolutely love it."

One of the things I pride myself on is my observational skill and my ability to spot a perilous situation; I tensed, going on alert—sensing danger was near. A moment later, I was proven right when she turned her smile on me. "And what about you, sir? What are you looking for?"

I took an involuntary step backwards—bumping into a display table full of lacy underpants, almost knocking them to the floor. "I don't need anything. I'm—"

"He needs something for his girlfriend too—and she's a lot more… _adventurous_ than mine, if you get my meaning." Christian shot me a smug grin; I contemplated strangling him.

"Oh… well we do have a selection of… racier… items in the back—some of them are a little too much for display out on the floor. I tell you what… let me get your friend situated, then I'll pull a selection for you to look at. How does that sound?" She gave me a bright smile, latching on to Christians arm; as she towed him deeper into the store, I could hear her inquiring about colors that he favored.

I am not ashamed to admit that I felt considerably panicked by her words; I did not want her pulling _anything_ for me to view, much less items that were so indecent they could not be out in public view. I certainly didn't intend to purchase anything of the sort for Rose—not in this store, with Christian right there _watching._

Glancing around furtively, I scanned the merchandise on display—desperately looking for the _least _revealing item I could find. I didn't care about winning any foolish bet—I simply wanted to get out of the shop and to wipe the humiliating trip from my mind forever.

That's when I saw it—the one nightgown in the store that fit my requirements perfectly. It was plain white cotton, unadorned by lace or bows—an old fashioned, loose fitting, sleeveless nightdress that was long enough to brush well below her knees. Even the neckline was chaste—it scooped, but not so much that it would give even a hint of cleavage.

I moved closer to grab the garment—enormously relieved—but something completely unexpected happened that caught me quite off guard; out of habit, I imagined how it would look on my Roza… and instantly, I found myself getting extremely… _aroused_. I could easily picture the snowy white fabric brushing against her soft, tanned skin—I could see her beautiful dark hair flowing down her back as the loose material caressed her body, giving the tiniest hint of the delicious curves it concealed.

The modest nightgown was suddenly the most seductive garment I'd ever seen. I grabbed another one—knowing I'd end up ripping the first one off her as soon as I saw her in it—then grabbed a few more, just to be safe.

What can I say? Despite my stoic exterior, when it comes to my Roza… I'm a _very _ passionate man.

Hurrying to the register, I was completely checked out, bag in hand by the time the sales woman returned; judging by the amount of items in her arms and the glazed look in Christian's eyes, it was obvious she had overloaded him with information.

"We're back," she said, smiling brightly, "Are you ready—"

"Already done," I said, holding up my bag. "I found the perfect thing."

"Oh… well… if you're sure—"

"I am," I cut her off, voice firm. "But thank you just the same madam."

She looked quite put out as she moved to ring Christian up—upset, I assumed, over the lost commission—though she managed to give him a hundred watt smile as she handed back his credit card. "Thank you so much Mr. Ozera—I hope we'll be seeing you again soon."

"Don't count on it," he muttered darkly, struggling to juggle the bags she handed him. "I could probably live a year on what I just spent on one of these damn getups."

"She's worth it!" She winked, promptly turning her attention to her next innocent victim—a man who was looking around with a befuddled expression on his face. "Hello! What can I help you find today?"

"What just happened?" Christian asked. "All I wanted was to buy a pair of pajamas, for fuckssake."

I reached over, taking two of the bags, chuckling softly. "I believe it is called 'being taken for a sucker'. I dread the day you go shopping for an engagement ring—you will probably end up with a twenty carat diamond."

"Shit—I know she really wanted pajamas too." He shoved his fingers through his hair, scowling.

"We can stop somewhere else if you'd like—"

"No! No more sales women—they're like fucking sharks! I'll order her some pajamas online or something."

"If you're sure—"

"I am—I don't even care if we lose the stupid bet. Besides—even if she hates what I got, we're at least going to tie since I know she's probably got me something I'll hate."

I didn't respond—his words suddenly made me realize something I hadn't considered; Rose would be giving me some kind of sleepwear too—in front of Christian and Lissa.

Good God.

I was doomed.


	3. Chapter 3: Rose

Okay—confession time. I was starting to second-guess myself.

Dimitri is an intensely private person; for example, if we're in public and I kiss him—and I'm talking a pretty damned innocent kiss, barely a brush of the lips—he sometimes gets embarrassed about it being a 'public display of affection'. So needless to say, I was getting a little nervous about how he might react when he opened my gift in front of Lissa and Christian. In all likelihood, he might get a little pissed.

Hell… he might just kill me.

I was pacing back and forth across the living room, waiting for Lissa to finish wrapping Christian's gift. She'd been locked away in their bedroom working on it for almost an hour—whereas I'd had mine wrapped in under two minutes flat. My best friend is as meticulous about wrapping presents as she is about everything else; every crease has to be crisp and perfect, the tape even and placed straight along the seam. Not just any tape—_double stick_ tape. Compared to my slapdash method, she's pretty damned anal—think Martha Stewart with fangs.

The sound of a key turning in the lock stilled my restless movement—it was too late to change my mind now, so I'd just have to suck it up and hope for the best. I plopped down on the couch, scooping up a magazine—trying to look casual; after mentally counting to ten, I glanced up as Christian and Dimitri walked in. My eyes widened at the sight of fancy bags they had—all thoughts of acting cool and calm flying out the window.

"Where's Lissa?" Christian was scowling—looking more irritated with life than he usually did.

I frowned. "No 'Hello Rose'? Wow—way to make feel like a piece of furniture, Sparky."

His scowl deepened. "I know this stupid bet was all your idea—"

"It was not! Lissa cooked it all up on her own—I _tried _ to talk her out of it." I tossed down the magazine, glaring at him. "If anyone's to blame it's you and that damned toaster!"

"I—what? What in the hell does the toaster have to do with anything?"

"She's convinced you bought it for her because _ you_ wanted it."

"I bought it because she likes cinnamon fucking toast every morning!"

"I told her that—but she was reading some stupid article in Cosmo that convinced her you don't care about what she likes—that's why she came up with this stupid scheme. To see if you'd buy her some lacy nightgown to see her in or the pajamas she _wants_."

Dimitri started chuckling, and I swear to God Christian went three shades paler. "Shit!"

"Oh God—you didn't…."

"I did—but it's not my fault. The sales woman was—"he stopped talking at the sound of Lissa's shoes clicking on the marble floor of the hallway.

"I thought I heard raised voices—I should have known that meant you were at home. Honestly, you two fight more than siblings."

Christian smiled—only it sort of looked more like a pain filled grimace. "I… uh… left my wallet in the car. We'll be right back."

"You can get it after we exchange gifts—it's safe enough for now." She moved over, smoothing her skirt down as she sat beside me, arching a pale brow. "Well? Do you have something for me?"

"I do… but Liss… I have to tell you something first. You're not going to believe me… but I swear to God it's the truth. I wanted to get you pajamas—flannel ones, maybe with a Disney character on them… only…"

"He has absolutely no sales resistance," Dimitri inserted smoothly. "He told the saleswoman what he wanted and she told him if he bought you pajamas you would probably break up with him. She was very, very persuasive—she talked him into something else entirely."

Lissa's eyes narrowed. "I see… so… you _didn't_ get me the pajamas you _ knew_ I wanted?"

"No… but—"

She sighed, setting the fancy package in her hands down on the couch between us. "Just let me see what you bought, Christian."

Lissa's pissed off expression made me almost felt sorry for Christian—he looked completely miserable as he lined up the bags in front of her on the coffee table. "I'm really sorry, Lissa. I honestly went with the intention of getting you what you wanted."

She didn't answer—she was too busy attacking the bags like a five year old on a sugar rush at a birthday party. Her angry expression faded a bit with each item she pulled out—first a pretty light green lacy bra with matching panties, then a sheer, wispy nightgown trimmed with fluffy feather and a matching robe. When she got to the kitten heeled slippers with the same fluffy feathers across the top of them, she sat back, staring at them with an unreadable expression on her face. "Christian… I can't believe—"

"I know, alright? I suck. I'm the shittiest boyfriend on the planet—"

"Hush," she said softly, cutting him off. "that's not what I was going to say at all. I love it. All of it. I can't believe it… but I do. It's so glamorous… like something out of an old movie!" She smiled—a radiant smile, full of happiness. "Really! They're just so… well… _queenly!_"

Christian stared at her, looking so confused it was hard not to giggle. "They're not too over the top?"

"Not at all—in fact… I'd like to get them in a few other colors."

I groaned. "Sorry—count me out. After today it's gonna be at least three months before I willingly take you shopping again."

"Oh Rose—it wasn't that bad. You act like—"

"I got them in every color they had," Christian interrupted, his voice hopeful. "I left the rest of it in the car."

"Oh Chris! You didn't! You shouldn't have spent so much on me!" She jumped up, throwing her arms around him, giving him a giant kiss.

I gagged, rolling my eyes. "Just give him his package Lissa—we haven't got all day."

"Rose! Be nice." Lissa chastised me gently as she pulled away from the embrace, scooping up his beautifully wrapped preset from the couch and holding it out to him. "Here—your turn."

I'll give Christian credit—he tried to mask his expression, but it was still pretty clear that he was expecting the worst; Lissa is overly generous, but the thing is… she kinda forgets to consider other people's taste— which is why there's a lot of unworn pink shit hanging in my closet with the price tags still attached.

He examined the package carefully, making appropriate noises about how amazing it looked; after a couple minutes, I started to get impatient. He was being super careful not to tear the paper or mess up her artistry—running his finger under the seam to separate the tape, then folding back the paper so it didn't wrinkle.

"Jesus Sparky! It's not brain surgery! Just open it already!"

"When I want your input I'll ask for it _Rosemarie_—until then just sit there and shut…" his voice trailed off, his expression of irritation shifting to a genuine grin as he pushed back the tissue paper inside of the box. "Wow—I thought you'd get me some hoity toity crap—these are great Liss!"

Lissa's cheeks flushed as she glanced over at me—I was pretty sure she was thinking about her insistence on the lounge lizard pjs. "Well… I almost got you something else—but then I changed my mind."

I rolled my eyes, but I wasn't about to rat her out—it's not like I _wanted _ Christian knowing that I'd prodded her decision. Besides, I couldn't be bothered with arguing—not when I realized it was down to Dimitri and me. My stomach clenched—just a little—all my earlier uncertainty returning.

I glanced over at my boyfriend, trying not to let him see how on edge I was about the situation. "Well Comrade… who goes first?"


	4. Chapter 4: Dimitri

I stared across the room, watching Rose carefully; there was an underlying tone in her voice that took me by surprise. My fearless, outspoken Roza was nervous about something—it only took me a moment of watching the way her hands kept smoothing over the present in her lap to ascertain that she was worried about my reaction.

I sank down in the chair I always claimed—the only one in the room that was big enough for two; arching a brow, I held out the bag with her nightgowns in it—an unspoken invitation for her to join me. She didn't meet my eyes as she crossed the room and settled down beside me; in an attempt to put her at ease, I dropped my head down, brushing my lips across her soft cheek. "Nervous, Roza?"

"Who me? Not at all. I have complete confidence in you." She set the box down on the large padded hammock beside my feet, grabbing the bag out of my hand. It didn't escape my notice that her own hands were trembling—a sight that upset me greatly. I had no idea what could be making her feel so ill at ease—but I had my suspicions.

"Should I just open it here or…." Her voice trailed off, her eyes flicking up from the bag to my face.

Before I could answer, Christian piped up, is voice full of scorn. "You don't have a choice—it's a contest, remember?"

I shot him a dark look, suddenly wishing that I'd left him to flounder on his own instead of speaking up on his behalf to Lissa. "It's alright Roza. Go ahead."

I watched as she bit down on her bottom lip, pulling out the tissue wrapped bundle. "Jesus—what is all this?"

My head dropped down again, my lips brushing against her ear as I whispered. "I'll explain later."

Her brow wrinkled as she stared down at the nightgowns, then she stood up, holding one in front of her. I fought back a groan, shifting uncomfortably—it looked just as amazing against her skin as I'd anticipated. She heard the muffled noise that escaped me—her eyes widened as she turned her head, studying my face. I knew what she saw—the ever present hunger for her that always lurked inside me; I couldn't hide it—not from her.

"I know it is rather old fashioned—" I began.

"It's loose… comfortable. I like it." She smiled—a slow, sensual twist of her lips that expressed how clearly she knew my mind. "I'm pretty sure that once I have it on… I'll like it even more. In fact… I'm willing to bet I'll absolutely love it."

Oh yes—she knew me. She understood why I'd bought multiples. "I could always exchange it for something else… "

She leaned down, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I don't think that's what you want to do though, is it Comrade? I think you'd much rather see me in it… at least for a few minutes. Am I right?"

I shifted again, cursing under my breath as my body responded to her teasing. "Behave."

"Or what? What'll you do if I don't, Guardian Belikov?"

"What are you two whispering about over there?"

I peered around Roza's body, thankful that Lissa and Christian seemed oblivious to my rapidly growing… problem. "Sizes. She is wondering if they run small."

"He said not to worry about it—that it's plenty big." She didn't turn around to look at them—instead, her eyes dropped to my lap. "Extra extra large."

"Rose—" I gave her a stern look, trying to rein her in—talk like that was fine for our bedroom, not for mixed company. If she kept it up, Christian and Lissa would catch on to her double entendre.

"Dimitri," she shot back, all sign of her earlier nervousness completely gone.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the surge of lust that rose inside me in response to her reckless behavior. As time passed, little by little, she was slowly eroding the iron control I'd always been able to summon in her presence. "You have something for me, yes?"

She tensed, her gaze darting to the box. There—the wary look was back. As her eyes darted up to my face, my heart twisted in response to the uncertainty that dwelled within their depths. "I… uh… please don't be too mad, okay?"

She shoved the box at me, retreating to perch on the edge of the hammock; had the look in her eyes not given away her nerves, the way she fidgeted certainly would have betrayed her. I tore my gaze away from her, studying the package—automatically, I smiled at the amount of tape she'd used to seal the seams. My mind wandered back to the first gift she'd given me; even wrapped in newspaper and sealed with bandages, it was the most wonderful present I had ever seen—because it came from _her_, the girl I loved more than anything.

This package was covered in shining paper, but unmistakably wrapped by the same impatient hands. I opened it as carefully as Christian had opened his, wanting to show her that I appreciated the efforts she had made. A moment later, I had the box open—and I instantly, I understood exactly why my Roza was so on edge.

It contained one single item—a hair tie. Immediately, my eyes flicked to Rose's wrist—it was bare and unadorned—a rarity. The hair tie in the box was mine—the one she always kept around her wrist, just in case I might need it.

Staring down in that box, I thought about my two options. I could allow my natural shyness to take over, inadvertently shaming her, conveying that I felt as though she'd done something wrong… or I could face the facts and admit the truth—that she'd given me the perfect thing for me to sleep in.

I took a deep breath, and then… I did what had to be done.

Holding up the hair tie, I arched a brow, giving her a pointed look. "I thought you preferred my hair down, Roza."

Her head jerked up, her brown eyes wide with surprise at my calm reaction. "I do… but I like being the one to take it down," she said, her voice soft—filled with the barest hint of longing.

"Wait—that's all that's in there?" Lissa looked confused.

"Of course. Rose knows me—when we sleep… I don't want _anything _ between us." I was rather proud of how easily it rolled off my tongue, though judging by the heat in my cheeks, I must have blushed at the confession.

"Oh.." Lissa flushed too, her eyes dropping to her lap.

"I really did not need to hear that," Christian grimaced. "It was bad enough seeing Rose's night gown but… ugh."

"We're all adults Christian—there is really no need to act childish about it." I gave him a stern look, reaching out to pull Rose into my lap—sliding the band back on her wrist where it belonged. "Thank you—it is perfect, I will wear it for you later tonight."

She giggled—that rare, wonderful sound that made something flutter in the center of my body in response to her unbridled happiness. "I thought you'd be mad at me… you know… for embarrassing you."

"I could never be mad at you for being truthful Rose." I lowered my voice to a whisper, brushing my nose along her ear, "especially not when I know you will be wearing that nightgown in a few hours."

"Okay enough—get out. It's a tie. We know our partners—Cosmo sucks." Christian jumped up, waving his hands towards the door. "I can't watch this—seriously. Go. You're both off duty for the night."

I didn't hesitate—I stood up, throwing Roza over my shoulder and grabbing up her nightgowns in my hand. In fact, I didn't even stop to bid our friends a proper goodbye. For once, I acted on my emotions rather than trying to keep them hidden within me. As I strode across court towards our apartment, I held my head high, proud to be carrying my beautiful, laughing, protesting girlfriend over my shoulder. I did not care what people might think or what the gossips might say about us—none of those things mattered.

It's really rather amazing what a little motivation in the form of a chaste nightgown can do to a man.

For the record… it lasted exactly seventy two seconds once she had it on.

I think, perhaps, ten might not be enough—I will definitely need to buy her a few more.


End file.
